Creole Kingpin Read online

  “We got a car coming, boss.” Jules steps away from the door, and I’m out of the Rolls in a second.

  A car means an opportunity to get to Mags, and I’m not fucking wasting a goddamned second. I’m getting inside the fucking club if I have to rip the gate off its hinges with my bare hands and go in guns blazing.

  The car, a sporty red Audi TT, slows when it approaches our two parked vehicles, and the window rolls down to reveal an attractive woman with blond hair falling straight to her shoulders.

  “You boys lost?” By the time she finishes surveying me and Jules from head to toe, I’ve put a name to the face from the digging I did on Magnolia before we made it to New Orleans.

  Desiree Harding. The madam who took over managing Magnolia’s house when she stepped aside. The glint in her eye tells me she probably has a gun and isn’t afraid to shoot us if we make a wrong move.

  Don’t worry, you won’t have to shoot us, I think. You’re going to help us.

  “Not lost, ma’am, but we sure could use a little assistance.” I gesture to the gate up ahead. “We seem to have lost our invitations.”

  She practically devours us with her eyes even as she shakes her head. “Private club. No invitation, no entry. No matter how big a shame it is that you won’t get to play tonight.”

  I take a step toward her car, but only one. I don’t want to spook her before I gain her cooperation. “We’ve got a mutual friend inside waiting for me.”

  Her expression changes, suspicion creasing the corners of her eyes. “Who is that, exactly? And how the fuck do you know it’s a mutual friend? I don’t know you, and trust me when I say I would remember if we’d ever met.”

  Giving her one of my most charming smiles, I say, “Magnolia Maison.”

  Desiree’s eyes widen with surprise for a beat before she wipes her reaction away, leaving cool suspicion on her features. “We’re done here. Best move on, because I’m gonna tell security you’re here, and you don’t want them to come out and make you leave.”

  Her window smoothly inches upward, and I’ve only got one last shot before tonight takes a bad turn, because I’m not leaving this place without Magnolia. Not a fucking chance.

  “Give me five minutes to tell you a story. If you aren’t convinced, you can tell me to fuck off. If you are, you get me inside to Mags.”

  For a moment, I think she’s going to tell me to fuck off without hearing me out, but the window pauses.

  “If I don’t like the story, I’ll fucking shoot you and save Mags the trouble. Because that’s what you clearly are. I don’t care how big or sexy a motherfucker you might be. Deal?”

  The corners of my mouth tug upward. “Deal.”

  Thirty-Five

  Magnolia

  I adjust my mask and try not to think about the SUV I’m pretty damn certain followed my driver all the way to the club gates. Which means Jules has probably told his boss exactly where I am by now.

  The mercenary part of me is responsible for the blood-red smile curving my lips.

  I hope he thinks I’m here to fuck anyone and everyone who isn’t him. Even though I’m only really here to see one man.

  It’s cruel and it makes me a bitch, but I don’t care. I’m grasping onto whatever I can to make myself feel in control. I won’t let Moses take that from me too.

  I’m almost twenty minutes late when I finally open the door to the private room.

  I step inside, expecting a teasing greeting to come from Rhodes’s deep, rough voice, but all I get is silence. My first thought is that he must be late too, but I realize my error as I take in the entire room and find him on the bed. He’s fully clothed, laid out on his back, his arms overhead with his hands beneath thick locks of wild brown hair.

  Asleep.

  “Really, Rhodes?”

  “You’re late, and I haven’t slept in three days,” he replies with his eyes still closed, but the corners of his mouth turn up. “I gotta take opportunities when I find them.”

  I push the door shut behind me. “You didn’t have to come.”

  At this, he peeks at me with one blue eye. “And miss playing with you? Never.” He pushes himself off of the bed and comes toward me with the easy grace of a man comfortable in his own skin. “I’m going to make you work tonight, Mags. You’ll wish you had a nap too.”

  “Pssh.” I shake my head, glancing toward the chessboard set up on the table at the side of the room. Just the sight of it shakes my self-possession because it makes me think of him.

  No. I’m putting Moses out of my head for tonight. I can worry about him in the morning.

  I gather myself and cross to the table, grasping for normalcy with each step. “You win once and suddenly you think you can take me. Not a chance, rookie.”

  “Hope springs eternal,” he says with a yawn. “Damn, I’m getting too old for this up-for-days-at-a-time shit.”

  “Whatever. You still love running around, catching all the bad guys, and collecting your big fat checks.” Rhodes is a fugitive recovery agent, which is basically a high-class bounty hunter.

  His lips quirk as he walks toward the two decanters on the sideboard that we always request. “Yeah, you’re right. I’ll do this shit until I’m dead. I fucking love it.”

  I trail a finger along the edge of the chessboard, stopping right next to the knight, and a lump rises in my throat. I have two chess pieces in my purse, but they don’t belong to this set.

  God, Moses is going to kill me when he figures out where I am.

  Thankfully, Rhodes interrupts my runaway train of thought, one that’s leading me nowhere good, by lifting the whiskey. “Your usual, I presume?”

  I glance at the board one more time. “Make it a double.”

  “Rough day?” Rhodes’s sharp-eyed gaze cuts to me.

  Slowly, I inhale a breath. “You could say that. Lot of shit going on.”

  He pours both glasses and carries them to the table. “You want to talk about it?” he asks as he offers the lowball with the most liquor in it to me.

  Under normal circumstances, I’d say no way in hell, but tonight . . . well, nothing’s normal anymore.

  “I don’t know.” I sip the whiskey.

  He sets his glass beside the game board. “You can tell me about it as we play.”

  I give him a good, long, squinted side-eye. I’m on to him. “So you can distract me and try to win? Nah. I know your game.”

  “Really, Mags? We’re friends, not fuck buddies. How many times have you come in here and listened to me unload all my shit on you?”

  He’s speaking the truth. Rhodes is . . . well, he’s a friend. Probably the only male friend I have, other than Mount, who I don’t really count because he’s not exactly friendly. But Rhodes and I go back a ways, and he’s never done anything but shoot straight with me. He’s also never tried to fuck me. He gets big points for that.

  I remember asking him the third night we played, “You never make a move on me. You’re not into women?”

  He looked me in the eye and told me, “I can find a woman to fuck anywhere. But a worthy opponent at chess who I actually enjoy playing . . . I’m not gonna fuck that up. Not for anything in the world.”

  That’s when our friendship really started, and Rhodes hasn’t given me a single reason not to trust him since.

  “My shit’s different,” I say.

  Part of me wants to tell him my life is spiraling out of control, and I don’t know what the fuck is going on, but I’m terrified. That’s not the kind of thing Magnolia Marie Maison admits to anyone. Ever.

  Rhodes shakes his head. “You’re still human, Mags. In case you forgot. Now, let’s play.”

  “You’re playing like shit,” Rhodes says as he puts me in check way too soon after we start. “Not that I don’t like to beat your ass, but—no offense—what the hell is wrong with you, Mags?”

  I shake my head, like somehow it’s going to help me regain my sanity. Only Moses leaving will do that. Or . . . hell, that mi
ght just put me over the edge once and for all.

  “Nothing. Besides, if there was something wrong with me, you’d just try to fix it because you’re a man. Some shit can’t be fixed.” I make my move, nullifying his position, and nod to him. “See? You’re not going to beat me this time. Everything’s fine.”

  Rhodes leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

  My eyes dart from the board to him and back. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ve got man problems.” He announces it as if it’s a bona fide diagnosis.

  I deny it like the liar I am. “What? No, I fucking don’t.”

  Rhodes wags his index finger between us and tsk-tsks. “You’re fucking lying to me right now. I see it. The legendary Magnolia Maison, former chess prodigy and madam extraordinaire, is tied up in knots over a man.”

  “Go fuck yourself, Rhodes. Or play the goddamned game. I’m not talking about it.”

  He waits in silence, and I refuse to meet his scrutinizing blue stare.

  Instead, I reach for my glass and drain the rest of the whiskey. “Fine. Sit there and wait as long as you want. I’ll get shit-faced and still beat your ass.” I pop out of my chair and march to the sideboard.

  “Let the good times roll.” He laughs and shakes his head. “You go right on ahead and get shit-faced. It ain’t going to change the fact that you’ve got someone willing to listen to whatever the fuck is bothering you, and that someone also happens to have a dick, so I just might be able to help you with your problem. Maybe offer some male perspective on the subject.”

  I splash a good four fingers of whiskey into the glass and take a swig before I even set the decanter down. Instead, I bring it back to the table with me and set it beside the board.

  “You can’t help. It’s impossible.”

  “Everything’s impossible until it’s done. Or at least that’s what the poster in my brother’s AA meeting says.”

  I know exactly why he says that. It’s a reminder he’s shared some painful shit with me, and I helped him work through it. Because Rhodes and I are friends, even if we only see each other once a month, at most.

  “Goddamn it, Rhodes. Why do you have to be so fucking stubborn?”

  He lifts his gaze to mine. “Because I care. Now talk.”

  “Fine. Play and I’ll tell you.”

  He nods and makes his move. It’s a good one, but I’m still going to beat him. That is, if I don’t lose it when I tell him about Moses.

  “There was a guy, once upon a time. He was a gangster. Wanted to be a kingpin. I was young and stupid, and I fell hard.” I slide my rook across the board.

  “No shit.” Rhodes sits up in his seat, worrying his bottom lip as he studies the game, and then makes his next move. “What happened?”

  I go with the CliffsNotes version to spare myself. “He couldn’t stay. I couldn’t leave. He promised he’d come back. He didn’t.”

  “When was this?”

  I clear my thick throat. “Fifteen years ago.”

  Rhodes’s eyes widen. “And you’re just now getting pissed about it?”

  My arms cross over my chest. “No. Damn motherfucking man just showed back up, and now he wants to make it right and fucking marry me or some shit. Like that’s gonna happen—”

  “Whoa. Hold up.” Rhodes leans an elbow on the table and rubs his chin. “He came back after fifteen years with no word and now he wants to marry you?”

  “Yeah. Fucking ridiculous. He even put a man on my house. Pretty sure he tailed me here.” I shake my head, and the sheer fuckery of all of it rattles around inside. “What kind of man shows back up after fifteen years of no word and then just drops shit like this on a person?”

  Rhodes is on his feet before I realize he’s even moving. “His man tailed you here? Fuck, Magnolia.”

  “So what?” My hand slices dismissively through the air. “He can’t get past the gate. It’s not like I give a fuck if the guy sits there all night. I’m sure I’ll fucking hear about it tomorrow, though. The man is impossible.”

  I might be buzzed, because my opinions are shifting around like a load in the back of a U-Haul. Actually, saying all this shit makes me wonder if I should believe Moses, but how the fuck do I believe someone who said they’d come back for me and never did?

  “Goddamn it, woman.” Rhodes stalks to the table where his bag sits and pulls out a gun.

  “What the fuck is that for?” I push back my chair and bolt to my feet, luckily without swaying too much.

  “You just told me some kingpin motherfucker came back to town to marry you, and now you’re at a sex club with another man. If you really think a gate is going to keep him out . . . Fucking hell, Magnolia. You know men better than that. You think he’s not gonna find a way in?”

  There’s a light knock on the door. Both Rhodes and I turn just in time to see it burst open, and Moses’s big body fills the doorway.

  Shit. I picked a bad day to be wrong.

  Thirty-Six

  Moses

  What was I expecting to find when I stepped around Desiree and shoved the door open?

  Fuck, I don’t even want to think about it, but this sure as shit wasn’t it.

  It might have been easier to walk in on Magnolia fucking someone, because then I would have just killed him. But this . . . this is a complete goddamned shock. The kidney-punch kind where you piss blood for a week.

  “I take it this is the guy?” The question comes from the man standing a few feet from Magnolia—and the motherfucking chess game they were clearly playing together.

  The anger I felt before morphs into something totally different. Something I did not expect to feel tonight. But, goddamn it, seeing a chessboard set up between them is like a knife through my fucking ribs.

  That was ours. And she gave it to someone else.

  I force the feeling down and bring the anger back to the forefront, because that I can defuse and turn into ice-cold rage.

  Stepping forward, I reach for Magnolia, but the dude moves too, putting himself between us. That’s when I spot the Glock in his hand.

  “So it’s like that,” I say, staring him down.

  He shrugs. “Depends on your next move, brother.”

  “Rhodes! What the hell are you doing?” Magnolia says his fucking name as she tries to come around him, but he throws an arm out to block her.

  My hands ball into fists. Desiree made me promise I’d leave my heat in the car, so I don’t have a gun. But I will beat him to death, no matter how many bullets he puts in me, if he won’t get out of the fucking way and let her come to me.

  “Making sure you’re fucking safe,” Rhodes says.

  His gaze is sharp and flinty blue, and from the confident way he holds the gun, I’m guessing he’d have no problem pulling the trigger. We stare hard at each other, and I take a step forward.

  He raises the gun a few inches, ready to point it directly at my chest, no doubt. “Not another move until you calm the fuck down, man. It’s not what you think. She’s just here playing chess. Not shit else. All we ever do is play chess.”

  His words are meant to defuse my temper, but they stoke it higher and hotter instead. All they ever do is play chess? Betrayal slashes through me, and I step toward him, silently daring him to make a move. He doesn’t disappoint. The Glock comes up, out of instinct, I’m guessing from the way he moves. But I don’t stop. I walk straight up to the barrel until the metal presses against my shirt.

  “Goddamn it. Both of you need to back the fuck off,” Magnolia says, but we ignore her.

  I bare my teeth and speak with a clenched jaw. “I don’t give a fuck why you’re here. You’re between me and my woman, and I’ve got no problem going through you to get to her.” I level my unblinking stare on him. “So you’d best decide right the fuck now. You willing to die for her? Because I am.”

  I hear a sharp indrawn breath from behind him, but I don’t look at her face. Not ye
t. Because I’ve got a point to prove, and clearly, so does he.

  “Not moving if you’re gonna hurt her.”

  I squint and my jaw rocks. “I’d cut off my own fucking arm first.”

  He studies my face for a beat, and Magnolia steps around him.

  “If he hurts me, I’ll cut off his fucking balls.” She crosses her arms over her chest and pops her hip to the side. “You’ve made your point, Moses. You got in. Now, what do you want?”

  “We’re leaving.” I hold out a hand, keeping everything I’m feeling locked down.

  “But I’m in the middle of a game.”

  Bull-fucking-shit you are. I take a step to the table, scan the board, and move a piece I assume is Magnolia’s. Then I pivot to look at both of them.

  “Check-fucking-mate, mama.”

  Thirty-Seven

  Magnolia

  Moses moves so fast.

  Rhodes doesn’t have a chance to react before I’m lifted into the air, landing over Moses’s shoulder.

  “Moses!” My screech fills the room, and Rhodes steps toward us, his gun at his side. “No. Rhodes, back off. Don’t fucking shoot him. That’s something only I get to do. Now, put me down!”

  Rhodes stills, but Moses doesn’t listen to a word I say. He turns for the door and stalks out of it.

  From my upside-down vantage point, I see Desiree with her jaw practically on the floor, and Moses’s man, Jules, with a big smile on his face.

  Assholes. Because the only way Moses could have gotten into the club was if someone let him in. I just never expected one of my own people would betray me like that. Then again, I’m well aware of how persuasive that Creole Casanova can be. It’s those fucking eyes and his silver tongue.

  And his voice.

  And his scent.

  And his smile too, if I’m being honest.

  Okay, Desiree didn’t have a chance.